


Sticks and Stones

by citrineelephant



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Bounty of Blood, Broken Bones, Kidnapping, Psychological Torture, Suicide Attempt, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 13:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 15,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24970108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrineelephant/pseuds/citrineelephant
Summary: A legendary present is delivered to a ruthless gang leader known as Butcher Rose from the frontier planet of Gehenna.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. Capture

The gag in the operative’s mouth was soaked in saliva. It was a simple gag with a knot tied around the center of the torn cloth, just long enough to wrap around the man’s head. The knot was secured in place in his mouth, large enough to prevent him from making too much noise. It did its job as he writhed in the grasp of the ropes tying him down, muffling his screams, cries, and insults. 

“You look so much better in ropes, you know that?” The Devil Rider smiled down at the man, standing over him like a looming shadow, “Rose is gonna love this.”

Butcher Rose. The head of the Devil Rider gang. The operative was familiar with her. The woman had tricked her earlier in the day when he landed on the planet of Gehenna with his Vault Hunter friends, playing a sort of pretend and guiding them into the town of Vestige. Once the Vault Hunters learned of her betrayal, they could not wait to take on the bounty over her head and take her down before she enacted her plans for the planet.

But here he was, captured. He lied on the floor, arms forced behind his back and bound tightly with emerald rope. Ropes wrapped around his chest as a sort of extra support. Or maybe for the sick satisfaction from his captors... 

More green wrapped around his legs like snakes constricting their prey. All down his legs  
the ropes were tied to prevent any form of loosening their hold. He had no advantage, he was completely helpless. Bound like a present for a monster. Not to mention, the metal collar locked around his throat with a chain leading towards the center of the room, going down into the wooden floor. 

Zane Flynt, the legendary hitman, captured like this… He could not believe it. He was angry and it showed on his beaten face. How had he managed to be captured? How did he lose? The white haired man hissed through the gag, a muffled storm of insults flying at the Devil Rider watching over him.

“Shh, gunslinger,” the muscular tattooed man’s predatory smile never left his face, “Save your energy for later. You’re gonna need it.”

Zane knew exactly what that was. A threat. The hungry look on the Devil Rider’s face told the story of what he was in for. Torture. The operative was no stranger to torture. Sometimes that was part of the job, giving and receiving, but he knew he could handle whatever they threw at him.

“You are quite the wily one, tomodachi,” the tattooed man gave a soft kick to the bound man, “So restless, so helpless.” A laugh.

Zane wanted nothing more than to blow the Devil Rider’s brains out and take out the leader herself, but alas, the ropes and collar kept him as a prisoner. 

‘A prisoner.’ It left a bitter taste in the operative’s mouth. Or maybe that was the taste of blood from his earlier beating. He was no goddamn damsel in distress, he was not going to accept that. One way or another, he was getting out of there. Alive. The man just needed to find his advantage. And his luck.

“What’s this ‘present’ you have for me, then?” A feminine voice broke through the doors of the room.

Butcher Rose herself. 

Zane glared up at the gang leader, spitting out another tsunami of swears and insults towards her, his fists balled and body struggling once more.

“Oh, one of the gunslingers out for the bounty on our heads, huh? And the pretty boy, too.” The black haired woman approached the captive, crouching next to him.

The operative spat out a tsunami of insults.

“What was that? I can’t understand you, it sounds like you have something in your mouth,” Rose chuckled, then turned her attention towards the man watching over him, “Do his friends know about this?”

“Caught him when he was taking a piss. No other bounty hunters in sight,” the tattooed man smirked, “Not much of a fight on his end.”

“I see. Looks like he still has all his fight under all those ropes,” the gang leader placed a hand under Zane’s chin, lifting his head up and looking into his uncovered eye, “I’m going to enjoy breaking your spirit, gunslinger. You’re gonna be a fun one.” 

Zane yanked his head out of the woman’s grasp, bearing his teeth as much as he could with the cloth in his mouth. He tugged on the ropes binding him, uselessly. Maybe the next tug would break him free… Maybe…

The man would not admit to himself that he was panicking. Softly. It drove his mind crazy being bound like that. Being so helpless. He hated being defenseless. Hated it with a burning passion. Control was something that came as a natural need for a Vault Hunter. Losing that was not something he would ever dream of. 

The operative watched as the Butcher rose to her feet, pulling out her ECHO device.

“Gunslingers,” Rose began, speaking into the device., “I figure you’ve noticed by now that you’re short by one. Having trouble finding him?”   
“Where is he?” the voice came through the speakers. The voice of the Siren, Amara. A demanding, strong and fierce voice. 

“He’s fine… For now. I suggest you stop on this little bounty hunt now or, well, you know what happens next,” the Butcher smiled down on the operative.

“He’s going to kick your ass if we don’t get there first,” the Siren threatened. 

“He did a great job at defending himself earlier, didn’t he?” Rose laughed, “I’ll give you a demonstration.” 

Zane had been trying to free his hands this whole time. Luckily, his gloves prevented his skin from being rubbed raw by the emerald ropes. 

Rose knelt down again, placing the ECHO device on the ground next to her and the operative. She reached for the cloth gag, pulling it from the man’s mouth.

“Feck!” Zane spat, “You’re gonna regret this, I’m gonna-”

A cry of pain echoed throughout the room as the kunai plunged into the captive’s shoulder. 

“Zane!” the voice over the ECHO yelled, “You son of a-”

Rose ended the transmission over the ECHOnet.


	2. Urges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose deprives Zane of a basic human need.

Zane hissed through his teeth, forcing back another scream as Rose twisted the kunai. He did not make it very long without the cry escaping his lips. 

“Is that all you got?” the operative was tense as crimson flowed from the wound, already dripping onto the wooden floor below him.

“Whatever games your previous employers played with you, pretty boy, I can guarantee that this will be the time you lose,” the Butcher yanked the blade from the man’s body, observing the blood that dripped from it.

The gang leader wiped the blade on her thigh, the crimson disappearing into the fabric. 

“I’d love to see you try!” Zane glared at Rose, “I’m going to kill every last one of ya bastards.”

The gang leader paused for a moment before breaking out in laughter, dropping the kunai to the ground.

“I’d love to see YOU try. You’re mine, gunslinger. Look at that collar around your neck. You aren’t going to do shit,” Rose chuckled, almost taking pity on her captive.

Zane’s glare turned into a scowl, looking disgusted. As soon as he opened his mouth to retort, the gag had been shoved back in. He fought to get it out, soon struggling to free himself from the ropes again. 

“Like a fly in a spider’s web. So determined to escape, yet too stupid to realize that the more it struggles, the more entangled it becomes,” the Butcher watched the man writhe just like a fly. Observing. 

The operative’s bloodthirst was growing stronger and stronger with each second he was stuck in those ropes. He wanted nothing more than to tear her apart right then and there, but he knew he had to wait. There would come a moment that he could escape. A moment where he could take her down. Zane thrashed and tugged at his binds, screaming muffled screams in rage and frustration. 

“Reel him in,” Rose demanded the nameless Devil Rider. 

The bandit walked over to the crank protruding from the wall, soon wrapping his hands around it and turning it. The chain connected to the collar around Zane’s neck began to grow taut as it was pulled into the floor. The captive grunted, eyes shooting open, trying to wiggle away from the middle of the room, but the chain kept being pulled under the floorboards, crank by crank. Soon, he felt like he could not breathe. Soon, the chain pulled so tight as it dragged him across the floor, it pressed against his windpipe and cut off his air supply. Zane realized trying to get away was a stupid choice. He relented, inching his body with the chain. 

“There you go, pretty boy,” the Butcher smiled, having stood up.

The chain only stopped when the collar hit the floor, forcing the operative in an awkward position. He found himself on his stomach, head back and chin resting on the floor. In vain, the man tried to pull his head up, but the chain would not allow him to. 

“Try not to piss yourself while I’m gone,” the gang leader turned towards the door with the other gang member having left first.

And with that, Zane was left by himself in the room. 

The operative realized how uncomfortable the position was quickly. With his neck chained as it was, he also realized he could not roll over on his back. There was not enough slack to allow him to. He groaned. 

How could he have been so stupid to have been captured? How could he let himself be a burden on the shoulders of the other Vault Hunters? Why did he not think better?

Zane shook his head, as much as he could, to shake the thoughts out. No, he had to focus. He had to be vigilant. He had to be ready for anything. Escape was viable. There was a chance he was getting out on his own. And his friends were looking for him, too. Yeah, he just had to reassure himself. Everything was going to go his way. 

///

Hours had passed since he had been left alone in the room, chained to the floor, and Zane was bored out of his mind. His neck was sore and his jaw hurt something awful, but the thing that really got him was the boredom. Hell, he would take the torture just to have something to focus on but the door in front of him. 

A groan escaped past the gag as he wiggled slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. Unfortunately, the binds would not allow it. In vain, the operative began to struggle again, trying to pull the ropes apart from his wrists at least. Nothing.

Zane then realized. What if they left him there for a few more hours? Days? Weeks? No, that would kill him if they did not at least bring him water. And with the gag dehydrating him as it was…  
What was the point of this? Obviously this was the beginning of his torment, but why start here? Was boredom an effective torture method? Maybe for him, but…

Zane’s mind wandered back to the events on Pandora. How he and his Vault Hunters traveled across the stars to stop two Siren twins from ending the universe as they knew it. And how he was captured by a mutated gang leader. God, he felt pathetic. It was not even her who did it, it was her underlings who caught him. Fuck, he hated it so much. How, how, how!? 

The operative could not even physically display his anger. He needed to release that frustration somehow, but it lay snug inside his body, wrapped up and locked away. 

He screamed in rage, the muffled noise pissing him off even more. 

Calm down, it’s going to be okay… Just hang on, you’re getting out of this… somehow…

Right, Zane thought, he was going to get out of this. It did not matter how he was captured so long as he killed the son of a bitch with his own two hands. Focus, focus…

///

Stuck. He could not move. The more he struggled, the worse it got. That sticky substance wrapped around his body only encased him further with every movement. 

No, no, no!

He tried to find his voice, but it would not come. Only a hoarse wheeze…

No, no-.

Eyes. They appeared at the edge of the darkness. Large, red, unblinking. 

Then the mouth. It opened, a series of blades spinning within. 

No! NO!

The legs. They scuttled forward from the darkness, the beast of a spider emerging soon behind. 

Oh god no. 

Helpless…

The fangs, they flashed. 

The fangs, they bit. 

A wheeze. 

Poison ran through his veins, his limbs stopped responding. 

Please, no!

He could feel the agony rip through his body. 

Then, her face, emerging from the spider’s maw.

Rose.

///

Zane awoke with a start. He had yanked at the collar again, the chain stopping his head from moving far. His heart raced as he tugged at his binds, yelling past the gag. Full blown panic took over his body as he struggled and thrashed as much as he could. His eyes darted as far as he could, looking for the spider beast… but it was not there. Nothing was there. He was alone. 

Shite, he had fallen asleep and had a nightmare about his captor. Slightly embarrassed, he tried to calm down and breathed a sigh, his heart still beating fast. 

Stupid! Fear was not a familiar feeling to the man. There were few things that frightened him and being captured did not. Why did that dream scare him? 

He tried to shake the thoughts from his head. It was just a dream, dreams are weird, right? Right.

The operative huffed, feeling the boredom quickly creep back into his mind. Great.

Then something clicked. Humiliation. That was the goal. He quickly realized this when he noticed he really had to fucking piss.

Try not to piss yourself while I’m gone...

Zane had had his fair share of humiliation. It never was pleasant, but at the same time, it did not faze him so much anymore. 

The operative thought to himself. It must have been about 20 hours since his capture. The longest a human could go without water would be about 72 hours. And with the gag in his mouth soaking up all the saliva in his mouth… Math nonsense here and there and he figured he had about 50 hours before Rose and/or her underlings came and made sure he did not die. At most. That was… considerably longer than he liked.

How long could a human hold their pee? His bladder already had been begging for a release, so he figured not much longer. 

Whatever, he could manage. He just had to… not think about it.

Zane tried to think about anything. Anything at all. His eyes glanced around the room hoping to spark an idea to get his mind off of everything and on something else, but all he thought about was his capture and his bladder. The man could not think of anything else.

It felt like he was just suddenly hit with this serious urge to go. Where did that come from?

///

Agony. Zane’s lower abdomen was lit up with agony. Another couple hours had passed and the urge had only grown worse, now tightening a knot in his stomach. He couldn’t focus on anything else, nothing else at all. He gyrated his hips to try to ease the sensation.

No, he was not going to give the Butcher the satisfaction of humiliating himself like that. The operative just had to hold on for a few more hours at least. She would be back soon. Probably… Maybe…

Think about something else, something else…

It was impossible. The only thing breaking the boredom was the pain of having to go pee so fucking bad. At least there was no running water… He got a soft, half hearted chuckle from himself.

Oh god, he was in so much pain. 

///

Zane gritted his teeth and let out a silent cry. He was going to explode, this was the death of him, oh god. 

Then, the Butcher returned. A cocky smile plastered on her face.

“You look like you’re in pain, gunslinger,” Rose chuckled, approaching the man and crouching to meet his eyes. 

Zane glared, holding back another cry. He instead breathed hard from his nose, huffing at her. 

“Obedient,” the woman observed, pulling a kunai from her jacket. 

The operative’s eyes instinctively jumped open as she reached towards him, moving her hands towards his back.

“If you try anything, I will not hesitate to slit you open like game,” Rose threatened as she sliced apart the ropes binding the man. 

Zane did not move at first, instead choosing to watch the gang leader’s movements. She cut the ropes binding his upper half before moving to cut the ropes around his legs. Finally, she pulled the gag from his mouth and tossed it aside.

Rose took to her feet and headed towards the crank, cranking it in the opposite direction than her underling had done. The operative finally moved his hands, using them to gently push himself up from the floor with the slack of the chain from his collar. 

The man’s neck hurt something terrible and so did his jaw, but most of all, the movement had caused white hot agony to erupt in his abdomen. He could not help the cry that escaped him as he doubled over back on his hands. 

Rose left just enough chain so that the man could not reach the door or the crank. She exited the room and soon returned with a bucket, tossing it at Zane. It landed in front of him, rolling to the side. Without another word, she left the room, leaving the man to finally relieve himself.


	3. Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zane was no stranger to torture, but could he be broken with a little isolation?

The operative could finally move… As much as he could given the circumstances. After taking the best piss of his life, he decided to see how much freedom he really had. The man took to his feet and began to walk towards the door. The chain grew taut just about an arm’s length away from the door. He noticed a slot at the bottom of the door, immediately knowing that this is how he would be given food and water. The man was no stranger to this concept of imprisonment. 

Zane had a thought. The next phase of his torture would be isolation. Again, he was no stranger to this. He just was not used to being captured by anything other than highly experienced corporate operatives like himself. The man was not sure which would be more brutal, corporate torture or bandit torture. He hoped he had already experienced the worst of it.

The captive decided to wander the room. Boredom was setting in quickly again, taking over his mind, but at least he could pace now. Do something other than lay tied up and helpless. He knew he was not going to get much from it, but it was the little freedoms he learned to enjoy in previous incarcerations. All he had to do was keep his mind occupied and focus on that escape or that rescue. He would be free soon enough.

Zane tried to hunt for any sort of escape points in the room itself. He had no idea what it looked like outside of the room as he had been blindfolded being brought in. There were no windows and he had no idea if he was even above ground or not. It seemed likely he could be in a basement of sorts, based on the design of the room. It looked like something that would be underground, at least to him. 

The walls were bare white with little design. Wooden accents lined them and wood lined the floor, but it did not seem like an above ground room. Especially with the lack of windows. The Devil Riders could have prison cells anywhere, he figured. Maybe he was underground, maybe he was above ground, maybe he was on top of the mountain in a castle spire. Whatever it was, he could find a way to escape it. If his friends did not find him first.

Not too long later, a noise appeared at the door. A soft rattle of the door, then a tray had been slid through the slot at the bottom. Zane went to investigate. 

The operative was not honestly going to expect much. There on the tray was a small cup of water and a small bowl of rice. He figured this was all he was getting today. Or maybe for the next few days. 

Zane’s mouth was really dry at this point, but the hunger in his stomach was not immediately demanding. He lowered himself to the ground and reached for the tray, his fingers barely grazing it. He strained to reach, but eventually, his fingers had a grasp and he pulled it towards him. Success.

The captive knew to savor what he got as he had no idea when his next meal and drink would be. He took a sip from the cup and turned his attention to the rice. White, plain rice. It would make do. Seeing as there were no utensils to use, he just dug in. He figured it would help it last longer anyway, picking up bits of grains between his fingers and slowly placing them in his mouth. It was bland, but it was something to keep him alive. That’s what they wanted, to keep him breathing at least. 

Another sip from the small cup and Zane decided to set aside the ‘meal’. He would save it for later and try to stretch it until his next serving came. In the meantime, he decided to explore his enclosure for a bit more, even though there was not much to explore. 

There had to be an escape point somewhere. There was always that fault, that failure overlooked. Surely, there had to be. 

“Oh, I wish I had my clone… And Zoomer… And Amara and FL4K and Moze…” Zane spoke to himself under his breath. He sighed. 

///

Hours and hours went by. Zane’s boredom grew and grew. And so did his hunger and thirst. Eventually, he gave in and went back to his rice and water, falling to his human instincts too easily. The captive downed the cup of water before digging into the rest of the rice. He regretted giving in so quick, but hey, at least he wasn’t that thirsty or hungry anymore.

///

Day 2 had passed easily, despite not savoring his ‘meal’ as long as he had hoped to. Zane’s boredom, however, felt like it was killing him. Time was slowed and he began counting seconds before he realized he would go mad doing that.

The man eventually moved his waste bucket as far as he could place it so the smell did not bother him too much. God, why couldn’t they just have a toilet in the damn cell? 

Humiliation, that’s why. He knew why. They wanted to degrade him and break him. Or at least soften him up a little before going hard with the torture. Treat him as nothing more than an unwanted animal. Barely keep him alive, give him the basics, etc. Zane was not stupid.

///

Day 3. God, he was so fucking bored! Another tray had come, this time with just water. Another small cup, just enough to keep him alive, but the boredom was fucking killing him. Ugh. 

“Someone get in here and alleviate my boredom!” Zane yelled, throwing his first cup at the door, “Let’s get this over with!” 

///  
Day 6. Zane decided sleeping was better than waiting in that prison for who knew how long for his next phase of torment. He spent the whole day in and out of napping on that hard wooden floor, waking up without remembering his dreams.

///

Day 10. The operative felt the first sign of Rose and her Devil Riders winning. A pang of sadness. His mind wandered to his friends. They had not found him yet and he had no idea what was going on outside of that cell. Were they alive?

No, they would not win. Quickly, Zane shooed the feeling, forcing his mind on his escape.

///

The 14th day. Or at least, he thought it was the 14th. There was no way to keep time. Everything he had was taken away from him and all he could try to track was his sleep. But all he did was sleep in captivity. Sleep was a good escape. Just being unconscious for hours at a time was better than being aware of how fucking bored he was.

///

Some time had passed. Maybe a month since his capture. Zane had no clue, but he did know it was working. One month with no human contact. One month with just enough food and water to keep him alive. One month in isolation. 

Zane was a social creature, despite killing for a living. He would not admit it, but he loved the contact of others. Mostly it was his love to talk, but having friends for once? It felt good. He trusted the other Vault Hunters and somewhat the crew on Sanctuary. Fighting side by side with them brought them close together. It was the first time in his life people did not want to stab him in the back. Literally and metaphorically. 

The operative could not help the sadness that was growing in him, but he did not let it take him over. He could not let it. He had to stay strong, wait for his opportunity or for his friends to rescue him.

Were they coming…? Did they care…?

No, they cared, they were coming, of course they were!

They had to be… but it had been so long… where were they…?

Then it happened. A tear. One little droplet fell from his eye. Just one. Once Zane realized he was almost crying, he sat up, quickly wiping away the water from his cheek. No, he was not going to cry. Not now. Isolation was not going to break him.

Isolation would not break him… It would not. He refused. Even as the dam broke, he refused to let it break him. Crying was healthy, wasn’t it? It was healthy! Everyone cried. Everyone… It was healthy....

Zane kept his hiccups quiet as he tried to reassure himself.

///

The operative felt disgusting. His dirty hair hung in his face now, having grown out just enough to go past his eyes. Over a month of isolation with nothing but food being delivered. His clothes stunk of body odor and his waste bucket smelled of piss and shit. He felt like the shit that overflowed onto the floor. He had lost track of time. Maybe he had been there for 2 months, maybe 3, maybe it had been a year.

Zane lay on the floor, defeated. He tried to keep his spirits up, but the depression was getting to him. He felt horrible. He missed his friends. He missed the thrill of the battle. He was breaking. 

No, there was still fight in him. But when the urges to fight came, they were quickly squashed by the overwhelming dread. His friends were not coming, were they? They were probably dead. Maybe they abandoned him… 

Then, the door finally opened, that old face of the gang leader smirking in the doorway. It was not who he wanted to see, but just seeing any human face was a relief after so long.

“You still with us, gunslinger?” Rose entered the room, approaching the man. 

Zane looked up at the woman with hate in his eyes.

“Still got some fight in you, huh? Oh, you need a shower, don’t you? You smell like a week old devil corpse,” the woman chuckled.

“I’ll feckin’ kill ya-” the operative used all his energy to launch himself forward, almost wrapping his hands around the gang leader’s neck, but he quickly felt the touch of darkness when she moved towards him.


	4. Freeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now the real fun begins.

Zane’s eyes shot open with a loud gasp escaping his lips as he was suddenly drenched with freezing cold ice water. As he struggled to figure out where he was, he quickly realized he was bound and naked. His arms had been chained above his head and his ankles had been chained to the ground below him.

The area was filled with Devil Riders, with Rose herself standing in front of him. He was outside, chained to a post up in the mountains somewhere. It was snowing and the breeze on his naked flesh felt like little daggers piercing into him. The operative was shivering. His skin was marked with goosebumps, his hair sticking on end. God, that was cold.

“I heard cryo is sorta your thing, gunslinger,” Rose was holding a hose with a spray nozzle, “I wanted to see how you handle the cold.”

The Butcher blasted Zane in the face with the hose and grimanced, trying to turn his head away. She followed his movements and sprayed him again. 

The gang present was laughing at the man. Taunting him. Zane felt exposed and he very much was. His body shook violently at how fucking cold he was. Maybe 2 months of isolation and this was the first thing he was subjected to. 

“F-Feck y-y-you-” Zane’s teeth chattered as his body shook. He instinctively tried to huddle in on himself.

“I knew you were a tough one,” Rose smiled, raising the hose again, watching as the man flinched, “I love breaking the feisty ones.” 

Zane hissed in an anger he had not felt for awhile, getting him another spray of the hose. He gasped loudly, beginning to hyperventilate.

“As much as I’d love to do this all day, I can’t have you getting hypothermia. Get him down.”

Two stocky Devil Riders approached the shivering man, making haste with unlocking the chains from around his wrists. Zane immediately fell to his knees, barely catching himself in the snow. The gang members ignored him and unlocked the ankle restraints. They were caught off guard when the man jumped to his feet and began to run. 

“Catch him!” Rose shouted, demanding her underlings to catch the naked man, “Slippery little bastard!”

Zane dodged the attempts to stop him, pushing past the gang and sprinting down the pathway that led down the mountain. He was so cold it was burning his feet as he ran. But this was his chance. He knew he would be at a disadvantage trying to fight, so he just ran. How he found the energy, he was not sure, but adrenaline was a hell of a thing.

The shot echoed down the mountain. Zane felt himself fall hard, landing awkwardly on his arm. It was quick, like a needle in his arm. But it hurt like a, well, it hurt like a bullet. Right in his thigh, it tore through his flesh and exited out the other side, his leg giving out immediately. The cry that ripped through his throat hurt.

No, no, no! 

The operative tried to move his arm, but something was not right. It was not working. It fell limp the moment he tried to raise it. It didn’t appear to be broken, but it would not move. The man used his other arm instead, crawling and dragging his shot leg behind him.

“I would stop if I were you,” Rose was approaching, “Unless you want another bullet.”

“Y-You’re bluffing…” Zane hissed, turning his head towards the woman, “You w-want me alive…”

“I never said it would be fatal,” The Butcher stated before firing off the gun once again.


	5. Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose has a gift for Zane.

“Hold still,” the ‘medic’ demanded as he sewed up the bullet wound in Zane’s abdomen. 

The operative knew struggling would pose a problem, so he stayed still in his binds. His arms were chained above his head on the makeshift operating table. His ankles were bound to the end of the table. He was still lacking any clothing. 

“Rose has got a surprise for you. She told me to let you know,” the Devil Rider sewing him up smiled down on Zane.

The operative rolled his eyes, “I’m sure I’ll love it…”

The bandit medic finished up his stitches and gave a soft slap to the operative’s shoulder, “All fixed up. Don’t strain yourself too much. I know how much of a fighter you are, tomodachi.”

With the wound in his abdomen, the captive was not sure how much struggling he would be doing. Surely, he would find a way to resist. 

///

Zane was now in a different room than the first one he had grown to know every detail of. This one was different, but much the same design. This one was smaller and had a stone floor. He was much in the same position, being chained by the neck in the center of the room. Due to his injuries, he could not walk around his prison cell like he wished he could. Thankfully, however, he had finally been clothed, even if it were just a mess of rags covering him. 

There was a dull aching in his wounds. He was surprised to actually get some form of medicine, even if it was too weak to do much. The man just sat there, sickenly thankful that something broke the isolation torture. Even if he did get shot.

Twice.

///

“Gunslinger!” The Butcher shouted with a devious smile, waking the captive up as she entered the room, “I have a gift for you.”

Zane groggily raised his head from the stone floor, letting out a yawn. “Let me guess, it’s a pony.” 

Rose was carrying a decently sized box and quickly set it down next to the man, “Open it.”

“Is this ‘gift’ going to horribly maim me the moment I open it?” Zane watched her movements as he sat up.

“Just open it, pretty boy,” the Butcher observed the captive as his hands cautiously reached for the top of the box.

Slowly, he pried the flaps open, peering inside. Once he realized it was not going to kill him, he took a closer look and his heart dropped.

“Do you like them?” Rose smirked, “They are custom made, just for you.” 

Inside the box was a matching set of cuffs and a collar. They glowed a deep emerald and were trimmed in gold.

“You’re joking…” the operative was shocked. 

The Devil Riders were keeping him as a pet.


	6. Agony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zane gets to try on his new accessories.

“They’re made of core. Strong and beautiful as hell. Like you, pretty boy,” Rose chuckled, folding her arms and looking at Zane.

“No,” the operative hissed, “There’s no way you’re getting these damn things on me. I won’t be your little ‘pet’.”

Zane spat with such hatred and disgust in his voice. No. No way.

“I thought you might say that,” the Butcher smirked, “Boys.”

At her demand, two rather large gang members entered the room. Zane found himself scurrying backwards at the sight of them. 

“No!” the word left the operative’s mouth before he could think it through. 

The large men approached the captive and he rose to his feet, wrapping his hands around the chain connected to his collar. Pain shot through his leg and abdomen, doubling him over.

“Shh, little man, don’t fight,” one of the men teased, lunging to grab him.

Zane fought through the pain, shooting past the man’s arms and ending up behind him. He took the chain to his collar and got it around the man’s neck, quickly jumping onto his back and pulling it tight. 

The man gasped in air that he would not receive. Hands reached up to loosen the chain around his neck, but Zane pulled hard. The struggle lasted only a moment before the man managed to toss the smaller one over his head. 

Zane landed on his chest and instantly the wind was knocked out of him. He gasped in desperately, clawing at his chest and throat.

“Can’t… Breathe… Huh?” the man the operative had tried to strangle hissed, rubbing his neck. 

The other Devil Rider took the opportunity to grab Zane, wrapping his large arms around the captive’s body, “Shush, pretty boy, shush.” 

Zane kicked and struggled, gasping desperately for air, trying to keep the man he tried to kill away with his feet, but he only used that as an opportunity. Grabbing the operative’s ankle, he pulled the box over towards them. The Devil Rider dug inside and examined the cuffs, soon finding the right one and snapping it around Zane’s ankle. It locked in place as soon as it shut around his limb.  
No, no!

The operative felt his vision start to falter.

Zane’s other ankle was placed into the shackle and it quickly locked as well. Then, the Devil Rider moved on to his wrists. The operative clawed out, snagging a bit of skin as he did, but rather quickly the cuff was slapped onto his wrist, and then the other. Last to come was the collar. 

“No!” Zane managed to wheeze, “G-Get off!” 

The gang member holding the captive released his grasp on the man’s chest, quickly grabbing at his wrists and pulling them behind his back instead. 

“Just one more, tomodachi,” the other man smiled, placing the collar around Zane’s neck. 

As it locked in place, the set began to glow. The operative felt a tingling sensation from the core on his skin. 

“What the-” Zane muttered as he fell to the ground, being released. 

The operative thought about running again, but as soon as Rose saw it in his eyes, she raised her hand. 

Blinding agony. A scream tore through his throat as he writhed, trying his damndest to claw the cuffs and collar off of him. 

“You like that?” the Butcher laughed, “Designed it myself. The core in your binds is connected to this little remote. And everytime I hit this button…” Rose hit the button and Zane cried out an inhuman noise, “It gives you a little ‘encouragement’.”

“Feck!” the whimper that came from the operative made him flush. 

It had felt like his flesh was burning in the hottest fires from the hottest stars in the galaxy. The pain that he felt… He had never felt anything like it.

“Behave and maybe you can go out riding with us one day,” Rose teased, “I’ve got a mural in mind for you.”


	7. Head Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose has a little conversation with Zane.

The blinding pain tore Zane from the sweet escape of sleep. He was confused, terrified, and screaming. 

“Wake up, gunslinger,” Rose’s voice danced through the air. 

The pain had only lasted a moment, but it was enough to have the operative’s throat torn apart from the cries, radiating like waves in the ocean. He writhed, kicking and balling his fists. This was unlike any torture he had ever been subjected to. Even when he was under the possession of the Hyperion corporation for a short period of time, nothing compared to this. What felt like an eternity had passed before the pain slowly subsided. 

“Agh, I can’t wait… To kill ya!” Zane groaned as his body began to relax. His muscles ached, but they began to relax nonetheless. 

The captive’s breathing soon calmed to a normal pace as he watched his captor. He was still tethered to the floor, despite the new encouragements. Rose still did not trust him to not run, despite having every advantage looming over his head. The agony trapped within the core infused shackles ensured escape would be impossible without severe punishment. He was definitely not getting far on his own without a way to remove them.

“I’m considering cutting your tongue out,” The Butcher looked down on the captive, “I haven’t decided yet.”

Zane could not help the pang of anxiety that hit when Rose said that. His voice was one of his favourite things about himself. That and practically everything else, but especially his voice. Talking was one of his favourite past times. 

Obedience, he realized, would gain him an advantage, but hell if he was giving this Devil Rider the satisfaction. 

The operative glared, “What do you want, then? Let’s get this over with.”

Rose seemed slightly unsatisfied with the response, “You seem to have experience with this.”

“There’s nothing you can do that I haven’t had done to me already,” Zane lied. Surely, she had already managed. She just had not broken him, yet.

“I see,” Rose paced around the room, “Usually isolation wears down the spirit for most people, but you came out still willing to fight.”

“You can’t break me,” the operative hissed, taking to his feet.

“You’re wearing down, slowly. Soon enough, you’ll break,” Rose smirked, “Besides, gunslinger, where’s those friends of yours?”

Zane felt rage in his stomach rising to his throat as he lunged forward, stopped by the chain, “You son of a bitch, where are they?” 

“They sure as hell aren’t here and I’m still breathing. I think they abandoned you,” the predatory look in her eyes glistened like gold. 

“Feck off,” Zane spat, “You don’t know them! They’ll be here, and once they break me out, you’re gonna regret ever-”

That familiar agony. It sent him to the floor. It washed over him like a crashing wave, destroying everything in it’s wake. Zane was not even sure when the pain stopped. Rose must have held her finger on that button just a bit longer, he thought.

“Last I heard, they were heading out of the borderworlds. Something about a ‘going away’ party,” the Butcher laughed, watching her captive as he lay there, exhausted. 

“Bull… shite…” Zane breathed, “You’re just… trying to feck with me mind…” 

The man could not help but feel that soft anxiety, however. What if they did abandon him? It was not unlikely that he would be backstabbed again, afterall… It had been so long since he had been captured...

“They sold you out,” Rose continued.

“I got caught tryin’ to take a piss,” the operative rolled his eyes, pushing down the anxiety. 

“They weren’t doing a good job at watching your back, where they?” 

Zane’s eyes shot open. No, he pushed the anxiety back down. She was trying to push him. But it would explain how he managed to get captured so easily... 

“Come on, gunslinger. How do you think my Devil Riders got away with snatching you up? I mean, you’re an easy target without your toys, but getting away with it when there’s 3 other badasses on your team? One of which being a Siren?” Rose pressed further.

“You’re…” Zane began, “Shut your face! They wouldn’t…”

“You were captured by 2 of my men. It wasn’t an army. I know how easily you killed the lower ranks.”

The operative wanted to tear her apart.

“They are long gone, pretty boy. Long gone. And you? You’re all mine.”


	8. Well Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zane receives a postcard.

The postcard came after another few days of isolation. Zane was waiting and watching the door, boredom clinging to his mind, when suddenly the paper slipped under the door. He scurried towards it, curiosity and desperation for something to break the hell he was living.

“Well wishes,” it said, with the other three Vault Hunters posing at some theme park. 

It took a moment to register.

She was right. God, Rose was right.

The postcard was all Zane needed to believe her. How could he not? They were right there, joyful as ever.

Without him.

Without him. 

“What is this?” the operative stood up, speaking under his breath, a rage boiling in his stomach and tears welling at his eyes, “What is this!?”

No response. Just silence. 

“Feck this!” Zane hissed, throwing the picture. It did not get thrown as he wished it would. The air caught it and it landed back at his feet. He screamed in rage. 

While he was angry, he could not help that dread in his throat. His friends… The only people he ever truly trusted… 

Feck them, he did not need them.

Well, he did…

No! 

Zane tugged at the chain, trying to break it in vain. He writhed and trashed, trying his damndest to break free.

No luck.

No one was coming for him.

No one.

The operative tossed his chain out of his hands, falling to his knees.

A scream. A cry. 

Nothing but hurt in his voice…

Zane broke down into sobs. Why was he so fucking stupid? Why did he trust them? Why, why, why?

The man’s body crumpled onto the floor and he banged his fists on the stone. 

“Feck!” he groaned loudly through broken cries, “No!” 

No… 

No…

It was not real, it was not real.

…

But there he was, stuck in that room, a long few months since his capture.


	9. Flesh and Bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose has plans for Zane's future.

Two Devil Riders stood before Zane, ready to take him down. They were twins, but one had a large scar across his face. They shared similar tattoos of dragons across their bare chests, looking like mirror images.

The one with the scar moved first and the operative was ready. Fast on his feet, he dodged the attempt to tackle him, but was quickly snatched up by the other twin. Hands wrapped around his chest, lifting him from the stone floor as his legs kicked. 

“Grab his legs,” the Devil Rider holding the captive commanded the other.

Zane kicked his legs out, knocking his foot into the face of the scarred twin.

“Stop squirming!” the twin holding the operative demanded, squeezing hard on his chest.

Zane gasped, gritting his teeth as he kept on kicking, trying to keep the other at bay.

But soon, one of his legs was caught.

Shite, shite, shite. 

He knew it was useless to fight. He knew it was, but he had to. He just had to.

The captive tried to pull his leg free, but soon, the Devil Rider got his other leg. Now he could not do anything but writhe. 

That is when Zane got an idea.

Bite.

Bite them. 

Bite one of them, either of them, both of them if he could.

The arm around his chest. It was so close to Zane’s mouth, almost around his neck.

Bad placement.

Zane lurched his head forward, locking his jaw on the arm.

There was a howl of pain as the Devil Rider let go, losing a chunk of skin in the process and dropping the man to the ground. The operative’s head flung back, slamming into the rocky floor, but it was not enough to knock him unconscious. Immediately a headache rocked his skull as he kicked his legs out, the scarred man losing his grip.   
Zane jumped to his feet, but before he could do anything else, the pain.

That all too familiar pain rocketed through his limbs and spine, sending a cry to rip through his throat. Zane fell to the ground, clawing at his wrists and neck. 

“Little bastard,” the man who had been holding the operative’s chest muttered, tending to his wound, “Do you have a muzzle to go with those shackles?” 

“I can get one made,” Rose’s voice spoke from the corner of the room, “Or I could pull out his teeth, one by one.”

Zane glared from his position on the floor, rubbing at his wrists and trying to recover from the shock.

The Devil Riders looked at him, hunger in their eyes. The thoughts swirling in their heads about what to do with their captive…

The operative snarled, watching them carefully.

“How cute,” the Butcher smiled, “Shorten his chain.”

Zane could not do anything. He just let it happen, moving along with his shortening chain as they cranked the wheel, drawing it further into the floor. 

The gang members seemed amused at this, chuckling as his neck was forced on the floor and he bowed before them. 

The captive never took his gaze off of his captors, turning his eyes towards Rose’s.

“I want to take this one,” the Butcher stood up, dragging behind her something.

Zane’s eyes caught it. It was a sledgehammer. 

No, no, no.

“I’ve decided that when you ride with us, you might pose a problem. Can’t have you running away, afterall,” the gang leader raised the weapon, grasping it in both hands.

Zane felt his heart skip as his eyes widened.

Oh god no.

Rose did not give him a moment to think before she disappeared from sight and a scream ripped through his throat.

Oh god, the pain. 

Zane felt the bones shatter and snap around his ankle.

White hot agony. 

He could not help the screams that he let loose as he clawed at the stone, beating his fist into the ground.

“One more, gunslinger, and then we’re done,” the Butcher laughed, swinging down into his leg.

Just above the ankle and both of his legs were rendered useless. Zane cried out, making a noise he never thought he could physically make.

And then he choked back whimpers…

Zane’s legs ached and throbbed, radiating like a hot lava tsunami. 

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Rose entered the operative’s view, crouching down with her hands on his thighs. 

“Feck you…” Zane whined through clenched teeth, “Feck you…” 

…

“Feck you…”


	10. The Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does Zane feel about small spaces?

The operative was laying on the stone floor, as much in the corner as he could be. He could not help the feeling in his chest overwhelming him. The man could not push away the sense of dread looming over his head. The pain in his chest. The knots in his stomach. 

His friends were gone. They did not care about his fate. The only people he ever truly trusted… 

Zane wanted to say, “to hell with them,” but all that time he had spent with them.

All the times they were there for one another. How close they became.

How it all turned out to be lies… 

Now that he was unable to help himself, he needed them. He needed the old them. The teammates, the family. 

But that was all gone.

Now he was alone again and any chance of escape seemed to be impossible.

Zane knew he should not give up, but he felt himself slipping deeper and deeper into that pit and he just could not claw his way out. Everything hurt so much and he could not stop it.

It might have been a week since he last saw Rose and her gang. The operative was not sure. He had not been sleeping much, nor was he eating what was being delivered to him. His stomach did not even hurt. It just felt empty. 

“Wake up, gunslinger,” Rose’s voice broke Zane’s drowning in angst. 

“What now? You gonna break me arms next?” there was still defiance in his voice as he rolled over towards her, wincing at the pain in his ankles.

“You’re going to need your arms when you ride with us,” The Butcher chuckled, “As much as I would love to...”

“Of course,” Zane rolled his eyes, “So what is it today, then?”

“How do you feel about small spaces?”

///

With his hands bound behind his back and his ankles left shattered, there was not much Zane could do to fight back. He had been stripped of his rags and forced into the small box. There was no room to stretch as he was practically folded up inside, knees to his chest and head forced down. It was quite the uncomfortable position to be in.

The force of Zane being squished inside the box so snuggly left pressure on his broken ankles. He felt tears welling up in his eyes as he tried to blink them back, choking back whimpers as he did. There was nothing he could do. He could barely move a muscle. 

How long was he going to be in that box? The operative was not counting on getting out anytime soon. All he could do was watch the darkness and think. 

Or scream.

///

Hours passed. It had to have been hours. Zane’s entire body ached. He could barely breathe. He was growing antsy. The man found himself shifting in desperation.

God, his legs, however. They hurt something awful. 

There was a dull, but intense ache radiating from his ankles. Any hint of moment shot agony up his limbs. Being in that position for so long…

///

The screaming. Zane could not hold back. He wanted out so goddamn bad. That’s all he wanted was to be out of that goddamn box. It did not matter what else they did to him so long as he was out of that fucking box.

///

Calm.

It’s okay, stay calm.

Everything is fine, this is fine.

///

“Let me out of here!” Zane found himself screaming again, thrashing as much as he could, which was not very much.

It killed his legs, sending another scream from his throat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The pain was growing to be too much.

“I’m gonna feckin’ kill all of you!” 

///

Sobs. 

The operative could not hold back. They just came and came and came. 

Stay strong… 

Stay…

It was not working. Zane’s brain was exhausted and he was in pure and utter agony. 

And then came the shocks from his shackles.

“Feck!” the operative whined through his broken tears, unable to comfort himself.

Another shock.

And another.

And another.

Zane’s body could not handle it. None of it. As his eyes rolled in the back of his skull, he could hear laughter from outside of the box.

///

Dirty and broken. 

How long had it been in the box? 

Hours, days, weeks, months, years…

It had been a lifetime ten times over. All he was was that box, fermenting in his own sweat, piss, and shit. Unable to move, barely able to breathe... 

Disgusting. That was more accurate.  
Pathetic.

Useless.

What was he if he could not even stop this? 

What was he if he could not even escape?

What was his worth now?

All he was was a torture doll stuck in a box with no one looking for him. 

He was alone.

All alone.

And completely and utterly useless.


	11. Petals of a Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A warm bath is well needed.

As the man was dumped from the box, falling to the floor and laying in a pool of his own waste, he did nothing. The captive did not move, despite being free from that confined space. He just lay there motionless, staring at nothing in particular.

Zane winced when the hose was sprayed on his body, washing away the filth from around him. 

“Did you like that one?” Rose’s voice pierced through him, “That one is a classic.”

The captive did not respond.

The Butcher got closer, crouching down next to the naked man, a smile crossing her face.

His eyes were red. He looked defeated. 

Broken.

He averted his eyes.

The gang leader chuckled, giving her toy a soft pat to the top of his long messy white locks. 

Zane pulled his head away. 

“The fun is just beginning, gunslinger.”

///

“Up on your feet,” Rose commanded the captive. 

Zane furrowed his brows in concern, looking down at his bruised and broken ankles. 

“Come on, get up,” the woman continued.

The man pushed himself off the ground, making an attempt to stand, but as soon as he got his footing correct, his ankle twisted and he fell back to the ground with a cry of pain. 

Rose turned towards the door, “Boys!” 

Two Devil Riders came into the room. The captive did not recognize them. Both were large men, one with a grey mohawk and the other bald. Zane did not fight as the chain to his collar was unlocked and he was hoisted off of the stone floor.   
Zane was carried out of the room, tossed over the bald man’s shoulder. He lost track of where he was being carried, letting his head rest. His eyes just watched the change of the floor design. Soon, however, tiles showed up on the floor and he raised his head.

A bathhouse?

There was a large pool of water in the center of the room, pillars on each corner. Bushes and vines decorated the large bath with stairs going down into it. Steam rose from the water.

No one was around but the two Devil Riders that brought him in.

Soon, he was lowered to the ground and the men exited the room, the large door shutting behind them. 

And locking.

Zane glanced around, looking for any catch in this situation. 

Nothing looked terrible or out of place. In fact, it just looked like a heavenly bathhouse.

And god, did the water look so appealing…

After months of basking in his own filth, Zane did not realize how much he needed or wanted a bath. 

He glanced around again, spotting soaps, shampoos and towels placed out next to the water. The captive found himself moving for it, dragging his legs behind him as he crawled for the water. 

///

The water was just right, the heat on his skin feeling like absolute bliss. It came up to his chest as he lay in the large pool. 

Zane ran the shampoo through his hair, his fingers catching so many knots as they did. It smelled so good, but he could not place the scent. He scrubbed deep into his scalp, making sure the shampoo penetrated deep in his hair, cleaning it so good. 

Next came the soap. He pumped a liberal amount of it into his hands, the pink colored cleaner looking almost good enough to eat. The man had no rag to wash himself with, but it did not matter. He used his hand, starting at his shoulders, scrubbing at the months old blood and dirt.

His hands migrated down his back and chest, scrubbing away everything from the past few months. How long had it really been? Three or four? Or longer? 

Whatever, he just continued to move his hands over his body, massaging his muscles as he went.

The captive could not help but let his mind wander, however. 

Wander to everything that happened.

Back to his capture.

Back to the isolation.

Back to the postcard.

Back to the box…

He shook his head.

Go away, go away.

But it would not leave. It overtook him like a parasite burrowing in his brain, forcing him to remember.

But what else could he do but think about everything?

A flash of a memory.

Then another.

Zane continued to scrub. 

Another flash.

And another.

Scrub, scrub, scrub.

The postcard, the betrayal.

Scrub, scrub, scrub.

His ankles being broken.

Scrub, scrub, scrub.

The darkness, the suffocating darkness.

Stop, oh god, stop. 

Keep scrubbing, scrub, scrub, scrub.

The laughter from outside of his tight enclosure.

Stop, please, stop.

The agony, the tightness, the feeling of such helplessness. 

Zane hissed through his teeth as he suddenly came back to reality, finding himself back in the bathhouse. He looked down at his wrist, just around the cuff. 

He had clawed deep into his skin. 

And then it hit him.

The shampoo, the soap…

It smelled of roses.


	12. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zane makes a decision.

Zane let his body slip under the warm water. 

This was it. 

He let himself sink, taking in a deep breath before he let his head fall under the water.

The captive let his body submerge before pausing.

And then he breathed out.

And breathed in, forcing the water into his lungs.

Immediately, his body fought him, instinctively trying to resurface. 

No, stay under. Stay under!

Another breath. 

But his body could not do it. Zane shot up from the water, choking and coughing and gasping desperately for air. 

The Devil Riders burst into the room, seeing the man struggling in the water, immediately rushing towards him and dragging him from the bath. 

“Rose! Rose!” the grey haired man yelled as he layed the captive down.

Immediately the Butcher burst through the door as the two Devil Riders pressed down on the man’s chest, trying to get the water from his lungs.

The captive coughed up water, then some more. 

“What happened?” Rose demanded, pushing aside the two and kneeling down over her pet. 

“We came in when we heard him choking, I don’t know!” the bald man shrugged his shoulders, watching the woman as she observed the captive.

Zane’s eyes were wide with fear. 

What was going to happen now?

Would she decide to punish him for this? 

The man was wheezing, trying to sit up.

“Gunslinger was trying to drown himself, I think,” Rose called it.

Zane shook his head profusely, clearing his lungs, “N-No!” 

The Butcher lifted the remote in her hand and the man turned his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

When he heard laughter instead of getting the shot of pain, he opened his eyes and looked back at her.

“Get him to the infirmary to make sure he doesn’t die,” the leader of the gang stood up and walked out. 

Not too long after, Zane was hoisted up again and slung over the shoulder one of the men and carried off


	13. Tsunami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zane wanted to drown. Rose gives him exactly that.

“You’re not getting out of this that easily, gunslinger,” Rose stood above the captive, who had been chained down to a table with his arms above his head, “You want to drown? I’ll allow it.”

The soaked rag was tossed over his face, covering his nose and mouth.

No, no, no!

Zane already felt suffocated by the wet cloth. Instinctively, he tried to shake it off, but before he could think, the water came.

The captive breathed in the water as it poured down on his face. Immediately he began to thrash in the chains, tugging with all his might. Pure panic overwhelmed him.

He could not breathe. Even as the flow of water stopped, he still inhaled the water from the soaked rag covering his nose and mouth.

A gasp. 

More water came down.

It felt like being swept away by a tsunami, dragged under the waves. Zane was just as helpless.

“Stop!” he pleaded once the flood indeed, choking and coughing, desperate for oxygen. 

“You wanted this, gunslinger. Just remember that,” the Butcher chuckled as the water was poured down upon him again.

The man screamed and writhed, wanting nothing more than to breathe air free of water. His brain was on fire, begging for an escape.

But there was none.

Zane was stuck and there was not a goddamn thing he could do to change that.

The water let up. The captive coughed up water, wishing it would stop or he would just die already. Either one worked.

“Please!” he whined, choking. 

“Not yet, tomodachi,” his tormentor laughed, pouring once again.

He screamed, feeling a pop in his wrist as he struggled to get away.

“Oh, that didn’t sound good,” Rose commented, hearing the noise and looking down to his wrists.

An immediate sharp pain shocked the captive, then a throbbing pain radiated from his wrist. It was the least of his worries as he continued to pull and thrash.

Whimpers, whines and cries. He wanted out so bad. The man felt himself crying.

God, was it pathetic. 

Everything about him, pathetic.

The water ceased. More choking, more coughing. 

Loud pleading…

“Stop, please!” Zane choked out.

There was a pause. The room was silent, save for the man’s choking.

“Are you sure?” Rose gave a quick pour, “I can do this all day. Afterall, you wanted this.”

“Please…” the whine satisfied the Butcher.

“Alright.”

A gentle pat was given to the captive’s head as the rag was removed from his face.


	14. Talons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Measures have to be taken to ensure Zane does not hurt himself.

Unlike his ankles, the captive’s wrist was wrapped up after being set back into place. It was sore and bruised, looking about as awful as his broken ankles. The cuff on that wrist had been taken off and replaced for the bandages and his skin swelled around it. That probably was not good, he figured.

Zane had constant monitoring since his suicide attempt. At least one Devil Rider would sit in the corner of the room near the door and just watch him. The man would inevitably end up turning away to avoid their eyes.

He could not stand it,

He felt so… empty.

Defeated.

Like an animal on display. 

An animal in a zoo.

A trophy...

There was no energy left to fight. He knew what had happened. He knew she had won.

Butcher Rose had broken the legendary Zane Flynt, did she not?

///

It took awhile before the leader of the Devil Riders returned, but after a few days she did.

“Hello, gunslinger,” Rose entered the room in a cheery mood. 

Zane had been facing the direction of the door, laying on the ground with not an ounce of strength left. His eyes tiredly lifted to see her. 

“I’m going to have to do something you won’t like very much,” the Butcher stated, twirling something in her hands. 

The captive felt his heart speed up. Fear.

She was holding a pair of pliers. 

“I need to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. Can’t have that now, can we?” the woman continued, turning towards the Devil Rider in the corner, “Would you kindly?  
///

It was not long before Zane was held down. He put up a fight, but not much of one.

He was pinned to the ground on his stomach, the Devil Rider on his back. One arm was pinned and held towards Rose.

“If you hold still, this won’t take too long,” Rose looked at Zane’s pleading eyes before grabbing his hand in hers and placing the pliers around his thumb’s nail. 

One quick yank and the captive was howling, trying to pull his hand free. Blood dripped from the now bare nailbed, falling to the stone floor.

“Just nine more,” Rose laughed, moving to the next finger. 

His index was next. His tormentor pulled hard and the nail fell to the ground, crimson flowing. 

“Eight.”

And then his middle finger.

A scream, a cry, and it was over.

“Seven.”

And then the ring. 

A whimper.

“Six.”

And lastly the pinky.

God...

“One more hand to go. Trust me, gunslinger, this is for your safety.”

Zane’s fingers were drenched in red, blood all over the floor and on Rose’s hands. He cried out, hissing through his teeth and writhing. 

“Please stop, please stop, please…” Zane begged, finding himself close to tears.

So pathetic…

The captive’s other hand was brought to Rose and she made haste in trimming his talons.  
“Four.”

Writhing.

“Three.”

Screaming.

“Two.”

Begging.

“One.”

Pleading.

And they were gone. All of Zane’s fingernails ripped from his fingers. He could not help the tears sliding down his cheeks as he looked at the carnage. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad!” Rose smiled, “You did good.”

She gave him a pat to the head as his body shaked.


	15. The Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zane receives his markings.

Zane’s hair reached his chin. It had grown dirty again, as he was not trusted to be near water again. His body was frail and thin, absolutely covered in scars, old and new. He was weak, tired, and empty. The light that once sparkled in his eyes was nowhere to be found. 

The captive had grown quieter and more drawn into himself over his time in captivity. He ate little and refused eye contact with his captors. Something changed in him.

Something had broke.

Over some time, Zane started to see himself as nothing more than a prisoner. All he was was a captive. An animal. An object. A trophy.

Nothing more.

How long had it been? 

Did he ever care anymore? 

There was no hope of rescue, no hope of escape.

All Zane was was a toy.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Nothing.

///

Zane had gotten used to being tied down and when he was strapped down to the table on his stomach, all he could do was prepare himself for pain.

The captive shut down. 

But when the pain came, it was not what he expected.

Zane looked to the side, seeing a long haired Devil Rider with tattoos across his face like scales of a dragon. 

He had a tattoo gun.

“You’re going to be happy with this, tomodachi. Rose designed it just for you,” the man smiled a genuine smile.

“What is it?” Zane asked in a small voice, afraid to speak any louder. 

“I’m not supposed to tell. It’s going to take a long time to complete, so you’re going to have to wait,” the man seemed so nice. 

So nice…

“Okay…” the captive looked back down, resting his head.

“So what’s your name?” the Devil Rider asked, focusing on his work.

The captive was quiet for a moment before responding, “Zane... Zane Flynt…”

“I’m Aspen. Nice to meet you, Zane.”

///

Aspen talked most of the time while Zane listened. He talked about the gang, telling the man all he needed to know. 

Afterall, Zane was one of them now.

The man felt himself relaxing as he listened to his artist talk. All the stories about his time in the gang, how he was raised in it, how it saved him. 

Zane liked Aspen.

He trusted Aspen.

“And, you’re all done!” the dragon marked man smiled, patting his back gently, “Let Rose know if you want any more ink done.”

And with that, Aspen was gone and two faces he had not seen before came into view, unlocking the chains holding him down.

Zane was lifted from the table with the Devil Riders on either side of him, helping him walk. By now, his bones had healed, although improperly. He could almost walk, but it was mostly a hobble. Shuffling his feet was the easiest way to get around, but he chose not to be on his feet very often unless he was made to. 

///

The captive was brought before Rose and she walked behind him, observing the art on his back.

“Aspen always does such good work,” the Butcher seemed pleased, “Are you ready to see it, tomodachi?”

Tomodachi… 

“Yes,” Zane answered softly. 

“Turn your head around,” Rose told the man and he obeyed, spotting his back in the mirror.

It was beautiful. But the man knew what it meant.

A beautiful red sun started the mural, shining down on the rest of the tattoo. 

A tsunami wave was the center of the piece with a fox being swept away by it. 

Around the fox’s neck was a string of roses. 

Below the wave were markings in the secondary language spoken on Gehenna.

A phrase.

“Property of the Devil Riders.”


	16. The Devil Herself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zane is taken on his first ride.

Zane woke up to the same room he woke up to every single day, but something was different. Before him was a folded up set of clothes and a note.

“Get dressed,” was all the note said.

The captive did as instructed, stripping away his rags and unfolding the silk robe.

It was beautiful and smelled so clean, unlike him.

The robe was green and black with a cloud pattern on the inside, Devil Rider green. The man slid it on his body, folding it over his chest and using the long thing cloth that came with it to tie around his waist. 

Next came the pants, which were a desaturated shade of dark blue. He slipped them on as he sat on the ground, moving his hips so he could get them on.

Zane wondered why he would be given such a gift, but he figured he knew the answer.

///

“You’re riding with me,” Rose stated, patting the back of her devil. 

The creature made a noise that Zane guessed was akin to a purr.

Zane hobbled over to the woman and her ride, doing his best to climb up, but he could not.

“I can’t-” the captive said before he was suddenly hoisted up by another member of the gang.

“There you go, tomodachi. Now hold on to me, we’re going for a ride!”

///

They travelled across the plains for hours. Rose led the group and Zane clung to her, afraid that he would fall off. They passed beautiful sights, tall mountains, wild devil packs, lakes. It was oddly peaceful, the sound of the creature’s feet pounding on the dry grass and dirt.

Soon, they slowed at the entrance of a canyon. 

“I have something for you, tomodachi,” Rose said, turning her head to look at the man.

Zane looked back at her without a word.  
“Come on, we walk from here.”

///

An egg. There before the posse was an egg. 

Rose seemed happy. 

“This one? All yours.” The Butcher looked towards Zane, “Do you remember when we first met?”

“Yes,” Zane nodded.

Rose started whistling a song, leaning down towards the egg, “Whistle with me.”

The captive hesitated.

“Come on,” the woman gestured and Zane obeyed, walking towards the egg.

The captive listened to the gang leader whistle, then followed. 

“No, like this,” she whistled the song again.

Zane tried again.

“There you go. Keep whistling!” Rose smiled as the man did as she asked.

The man whistled the song over and over, again and again, and soon, he noticed movement in the egg.

“Go on.” The Butcher encouraged.

Zane continued, the egg shaking more and more.

Then a crack.

And another.

And an eye seeing light for the first time.

The captive whistled. 

And whistled.  
And whistled.

Until the little devil emerged from it’s egg. 

It’s eyes were so big, staring at the man with wonder in it’s eyes. Soon, it stumbled over to him, cocking it’s head as it listened to the song.

“Congratulations. I think she likes you,” Rose smiled a genuine smile towards Zane and Zane found himself returning it, almost overwhelmed with a feeling of happiness, seeing this small creature take a liking to him.

“What are you going to name her?” The leader asked after the devil hopped into Zane’s lap.

There was a pause.

“Saoirse.”


	17. Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to look up.

Dread. Zane did not want to return to that room after getting his taste of freedom. One day, one drop. 

But Saoirse was allowed to stay with him.

She curled up next to him, purring as loud as she could. A smile crossed his face.

Happiness. Genuine happiness.

Zane had not felt that in so long.

Her eyes, the little devil’s eyes. They looked at him with what he could only describe as love.

Love.

He was loved.

And hell, it was only one day, but he loved her, too.

Tears welled up in his eyes, soon falling down his cheeks. God, he had not felt emotions like this in so so long.

///

Saoirse had gotten big quick and Zane’s weight was returning to what it used to be. 

Food was being delivered regularly, a few times a day. 

Zane’s appetite returned as he now had something to care for.

Saoirse.

His freedom.

///

“You’re moving, tomodachi!” Rose smiled as she unlocked the chain from his collar, “and Saoirse can stay with you, don’t worry.”

Thank god, he thought, petting at Saoirse’s head. 

“Thank you,” Zane muttered, looking down. 

“Of course.”

///

The room was spacious, enough for the man and his devil.

There were windows lining the back wall with two beds on the floor.

Beds! Actual beds!

“Here you go,” Rose gestured for the man to enter and he did.

A pause as he turned, “Thank you so much.”

A smile crossed the Butcher’s face, “You are very welcome, Zane.”

///

The bed was bliss.

Fucking bliss!

It was not long before he passed out, curled in his sheets with a smile on his face.


	18. Open Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No hard feelings.

Zane woke up to the sunshine on his face.

Bliss.

His eyes caught sight of his new surroundings and at first his heart skipped.

Was he rescued?

Did he die?

No, he remembered. This was his new room. 

His new freedom. 

Zane pulled his blanket aside and looked over towards Saoirse. She raised her head and looked at him.

“Shh, girl, shh,” he whispered softly and she laid her head back down, still watching him.

It was… different… being unchained. 

Sure, he still had the shackles latched onto him, but there was no chain keeping hm tethered down.

The man moved for the door, pressing his ear to it.

There was chatter.

Instinctively, his hands pushed on the door and it opened.

His heart raced.

Oh god, oh god, it was open?

Did they mean to leave it unlocked?

He was going to be punished for this.

Zane backed down from the door and went back to his bed, just staring towards the door.

///

Zane’s curiosity was screaming at him.

Go out.

Go.

So, he got up again and went to the door. Slowly he pushed it open and saw the hallway he had been led down. He stepped a foot out of the room, feeling panic as he did.

Push through.

Push through.

Zane took another step. And then another.

There were no guards, but the chatter was loud.

Keep going.

Saoirse got out from her bed and started walking towards her human.

Zane turned back to see the devil, “Lay down, lass.”

The devil lowered her head and turned around, obeying him as he continued to hobble from the room. 

He shuffled his feet, trying to keep his balance as he walked. 

Each step, the man’s heart raced faster and faster until he felt like he was going to throw up.

Turn around.

Zane was about to turn when he noticed Rose’s smile appear from around the corner.

“I thought I heard you coming out of your room. Come on out,” The Butcher waved him out.

///

“No hard feelings, tomodachi,” the man sat down next to Zane at the table.

The man looked over, feeling a panic rise in his chest. One of the twins that had been there when his legs were broken.

“You’re one of us now,” the man smiled, holding out a hand.

Zane took it, shaking the man’s hand.

“No hard feelings,” he said.


	19. Vestige

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zane is taken out for a ride to Vestige.

Over time, Zane came to realize that “no hard feelings” did not mean he earned respect.

They still treated him like a prisoner, with a little more freedom given to him.

Zane knew what he was. He was not about to kid himself.

He belonged to the Devil Riders. Being one of them meant nothing. Hell, it was inked on his back. 

“Property.”

Zane pulled his hair back into a dirty ponytail. The grease was starting to both his face as it dangled over his eyes. He pulled it tight, taming the mess.

By now, it had reached his shoulders.

“Hurry up, tomodachi!” a man’s voice called from behind the door.

“I’m coming,” Zane shouted softly back, afraid to raise his voice any higher.

He quickly hurried out of the room, Saoirse following behind. 

It was time to ride.

///

“Can I trust you with a gun?” Rose asked, holding the revolver out towards Zane.

“Yes,” he responded, reaching his hand out cautiously. 

She pulled back, “You better not try anything.”

The Butcher handed over the gun.

It had been so long since he held a weapon in his hands. It felt… right.

“Thank you,” Zane lowered his gaze.

“Get on your devil. We’re riding to Vestige.”

///

It was the first time riding Saoirse. She was no problem whatsoever, letting him on her back. Zane gave her a pat on her head as they took off.

They headed out into the plains for Vestige. Hours passed before it started to grow dark, but they were not there, yet. Stars led the way.

“You’re with me, Zane,” Rose shouted over to the man, taking off in one direction while her posse went the other.

The man turned with her, following behind. 

“You’re doing good!” The Butcher shouted.

Zane did not answer, unsure how to.

“Your devil has really taken a liking to you, huh?”

“Yeah,” the man shouted back.

“Ride closer to me,” Rose told him as he did, moving up next to her.

She gave him a soft smile.

“I never asked. What does Saoirse mean anyway?”

Zane was hesitant to respond.

“Freedom.”

///

Rose and Zane arrived to the gate of Vestige which had been locked once more since the last time he had been there.

It was weird being there again after so long.

“Remember my key?” the man shot the lock and the door fell open, “Oh, I got you this!”

The Butcher reached into her bag and tossed the man something.

Zane caught it, turning it over in his hands.

Confusion struck him.

“It’s a mask, put it on,” the woman demanded as she pulled a bandana to her face.

It was black with white teeth on it and two ear like extensions on either side.

He placed it over his face and followed Rose.

///

Zane and Rose were crouched behind a rock, watching the guards at the gate. 

“Follow my lead,” The Butcher stood up and caught the guard’s attention.

“Stop right there! Who are you? State your business-” the bullet ended the man’s demands as his brains popped out of his head.

Zane stood up, aiming his gun as the bullets flew. He watched as each guard went down, his sights migrating towards…

...Rose.

His captor.

His torturer.

As the final guard went down, choking on their own blood, Rose turned to see her captive. 

A smile on her face.

Zane’s hands shaked as he aimed at her.

Quickly he turned the gun on himself.

And pulled the trigger.


	20. Freedom's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zane's freedom is taken away from him. Indefinitely.

Click.

Zane’s eyes were wide as he stared at his captor, lowering the gun from his head. 

No.

No…

Rose was laughing, cackling.

No…

“You think I would give you a loaded gun?” She continued to laugh, mocking him.

Please no…

“I’m not surprised in the slightest that you would try something,” Rose tried to collect herself, “Especially trying to kill yourself again.”

Zane was beginning to shut down again. His head was spinning. His mind was screaming.

Run.

The thought broke through.

The man took to his feet, but…

He could not run. 

As soon as he tried, he collapsed. Rose did not even have to use the device connected to his shackles to stop him. His maimed ankles did the trick for her.

The Butcher was in tears watching him suffer. She was laughing so hard tears ran down her cheeks.

Zane felt his face flush. 

Dread.

Embarrassment.

Humiliation.

The captive just wanted to curl up and die. He pulled his legs to his chest and choked back tears.

Stupid. 

Fucking stupid.

Soon, hands had grabbed at him, pulling him to his knees as he fought in their grasp.

As Rose calmed herself, she gave her captive a smile, “Take him back to his devil and put her down.”

“No!” Zane screamed, fighting back for the first time in months, “Please, no!”

The Devil Riders holding began to drag him back out of Vestige, all while he kicked and struggled.

“Don’t hurt her! Don’t hurt her, please!”

His pleading fell on deaf ears.

///

Zane’s wrists were chained behind his back. A leash had been connected to his collar. 

He could not do a damn thing as the shot fired.

Saoirse fell to the ground without a sound, her blood quickly pooling around her head.

“No!” the cry ripped through Zane’s throat, echoing in the canyon.

The man fell to the ground, the leash almost choking him. He broke down into sobs, snot and drool pouring from his face.

“No!” the anguished cry hurt his throat. 

Why?

Why?

He knew he was the reason she was dead. 

He was being tested and he got his only friend killed by defiance.

He murdered her. 

“No…” Zane’s voice cracked as he weeped for Saoirse.

For his freedom.


	21. The Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zane craves for release.

Alone.

Zane was alone.

His taste of freedom was gone.

Now, he was back in his old tiny cell, tethered to the floor with his arms chained behind his back. 

His tears had long since dried up and all he did was cower in the corner, feeling nothing but overwhelming dread.

Zane wanted to die. 

He did not care about freedom. 

Death was better than anything.

Death was the only way.

He knew he was not going to get that. 

He knew the torture was only going to get worse.

And worse.

And worse.

Zane’s voice was gone from screaming. He could barely make a noise after tearing up his throat. 

Everything hurt. 

Everything was misery.

He begged whatever higher power that may have existed to show mercy, to just let him die. 

The door opened.

“How are you, gunslinger?” Rose smiled down on him.

Zane wanted to scream again.

“I’m sorry about your devil, but you stepped out of line,” the woman walked over towards the captive. 

Get away, he wanted to yell.

“You’ll learn,” she crouched next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Zane flinched violently, pulling away from her touch, but the chain stopped him from going too far.

“One day, Zane, you’ll have a gun in your hands. A loaded one. And you’ll make the right decision.” 

The captive wanted to cry.

“You’ll make a good Devil Rider. One day.”


	22. Explosions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose's plans don't go accordingly.

Zane’s hair reached past his chest at this point. It had been a long time since the death of Saoirse, his freedom. The man had lost weight again and many times he had to have a feeding tube shoved down his throat to keep him from dying. Many times he tried to starve himself to death, but he was not getting out that easily.

No, of course not. 

The captive barely moved around his cell, spending all that time since his devil’s death in there. 

Rose barely visited him. Guards did keep watch again, however. After his nails grew back in, Zane tried to claw at his throat and wrists. Anything to escape.

Anything. 

His nails were not pulled out this time, thank god. 

But he was whipped for the attempt. 

Whipped near to death.

Oh so close, but not close enough.

His arms were kept chained behind him most of the time as well.

Zane was laying on the ground, unmoving. He had completely shut down. Everything was on autopilot now. He was not even sure how many days had passed since Rose had last been in his cell or how many guards had switched out.

The man could not sleep. That was not even an option for escape. All it was were nightmares about Saoirse. Reliving the moment of her being shot.

Exhaustion. 

It broke him, really broke him.

He did not know that he could fall apart more than he already had, but he did.

Zane wondered if there was a level of hell lower than this.

///

“Kill me already,” Zane muttered as Rose unlocked the chain from his collar.

“No can do, gunslinger,” the Butcher smiled as she attached a leash to the collar instead.

“Please,” the captive whimpered, “Just kill me.”

“Get up,” she commanded and Zane obeyed.

Zane’s arms were already chained behind him, so he posed no threat to Rose.

“Why?” Zane breathed out.

“Why?” Rose chuckled as she led him out of the room, “Because I’m not done with you.”

///

As Rose was leading Zane towards his next hell, there was an explosion of sound. 

The two were knocked to the ground as the lights flickered.

“What the-” The Butcher yelled, “Get him back in his cell!” 

A Devil Rider had exited the cell when Rose caught sight of him. Immediately, she handed the chain over to the man and ran.

“What’s going on?” Zane asked as he was being led back.

Before they got far, another explosion. 

A rock broke free from the ceiling and hit the Devil Rider in the head, blood spraying from the wound all over the captive. 

Zane was tugged to the ground as his handler fell with him. 

Shite…

The captive tried to pull himself free, pulling the chain from the dead man’s hand and soon falling back on his ass. 

Maybe… 

Maybe there would be keys on this man…

Zane pushed himself towards the dead man, turning his body to get his hands on the corpse. 

He patted around, using his mangled feet to push himself closer. 

No luck.

Until…

Zane pulled something from a pocket, twirling it around in his hands.

A key!

A fucking key!

The captive searched for the locks on the cuffs. 

Bingo.

He slid the key into the lock. 

It worked.

Zane pulled his arms in front of him after he threw the lock aside, working on the second lock. Soon, the chains were unleashed from his cuffs and he worked on the leash.

After the leash was off, he tossed it aside and searched the man again, finding a gun on his body. 

A revolver.

Another explosion.

The captive pushed himself to his feet. 

He shuffled forward, trying his best to move fast, but it was not working out too well.  
Whatever, just move. 

Bang!

Pop!

Gunshots.

Lucky he had found the gun. 

Zane made it to the corner, peering around it with caution. 

Nothing. 

No sight of anyone. 

As quick as he could, he moved into the room. He tried to recall where to go, but it was a goddamn maze of rooms. 

Escape was on the horizon, he could taste it.

Maybe he did not have to die to get away from Rose, afterall. 

Maybe he would make it out alive. 

But would it be worth it?


	23. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zane makes his escape.

Zane moved through the stronghold with the gun raised. 

An explosion rocked the building, knocking the captive to the ground.

“Run!” A Devil Rider sprinted past him, getting hit by a wooden board falling from it’s place in the ceiling.

That would be the direction to go, then.

Whatever was happening, Zane’s instincts told him to go towards the explosions. Especially since his captors seemed distressed by them.

Zane hobbled towards the direction the Devil Rider came from, sweeping the area as well as he could. 

Soon, he came to an elevator. 

Maybe it was not the best idea to ride when there was clearly an attack happening on the surface, but he stumbled inside anyway, smacking the button to go up.

Zane was nervous. His brain was screaming at him not to go.

Just stay back, he thought.

Do not disobey. 

Do not rebell. 

But his feet kept moving, pushing him forward.

Soon, the elevator stopped and he saw fire. 

The stronghold was burning.

Zane continued forward. 

Just keep moving.

Just move.

A wooden beam fell in front of him as another explosion rocked the place, nearly knocking him down. But he kept moving. 

Keep moving.

Keep moving.

The captive kept shuffling his feet forward, when suddenly he was taken to the ground by that all too familiar agony. 

The pain shot through him like the explosions rocking the stronghold, radiating from the shackles around his limbs and throat.

“Not so fast, gunslinger,” Rose taunted, making her way over to the man.

“Get away from him!” Another voice.

A familiar voice.

As Zane opened his eyes to see his tormentor, he saw the scene unfold. Three figures were standing at the far end of the burning room. Rose had turned to them with a smirk on her face. 

Quickly, the Butcher snatched Zane off of the floor and placed the barrel of her gun under his chin.

“Come any closer and he dies,” Rose laughed, pressing the barrel harder into his skin, “Drop the gun, Zane.” 

The captive obeyed, disbelief in his eyes.

The three figures. 

They were the other Vault Hunters, but…

Older…

FL4K…

Moze…

Amara…

They… had come for him. They had actually come for him. Zane could not believe it.

But what should have been joy quickly turned into anger.  
“Where the feck where you?” Zane spoke up, clearly shocking Rose. 

“Yeah, where were you?” The Butcher collected herself and chimed in.

The three seemed taken aback. 

“Where the feck where you!?” the man finally screamed, grabbing the gun from his throat and ripping it from Rose’s hands.

He aimed the gun towards the Vault Hunters.

Rose did not stop him.

“Zane, please-” Amara spoke up, taking her chance to move forward.

Zane shook the gun, pointing it at her, “No! Get away from me! I’ll feckin’ kill ya!” 

“Zane, put the gun down,” the Siren pleaded. 

“No! You feckin’ left me here to die! You-” the operative turned the gun on himself as Amara moved forward again.

The tears started to fall as he held the barrel to his head. 

“It-. It wasn’t like that!” Amara begged, “Please, put the gun down.”

“Don’t do this, Zane,” Moze spoke up.

“What was it like, then?!” the man screamed through his sobs, “I saw the postcard! And now you suddenly-” 

Zane screamed through his teeth. 

“What postcard? Zane, they were messing with your head. We couldn’t-” 

“Shut up! Just shut up!” the man lowered the gun slightly as he hunched over to cry. 

Another step forward.

Zane shot up, pressing the barrel hard against his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

He fired.

And it clicked.

And he was still breathing.

Suddenly, he was hoisted up into the air by the Siren’s phasegrasp, encased in a bubble of energy held by a large ethereal hand. 

“No!” Zane screamed, struggling to move, “No! Put me down!” 

“This is for your own good!” Amara pleaded with the man, turning her attention to the Butcher.

She was gone.


	24. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust works both ways.

Zane started to scream, more than his pleading and begging to be let go, to be away from the Vault Hunters. No, this was different. This was a man in agony.

“What’s happening to him?” Moze stepped forward. 

The operative writhed, unable to try in vain to comfort himself. The screams were heartbreaking for the other three. 

“Put him down,” the soldier said, “Now, Amara!” 

“Wait, look,” the Siren pointed towards the man, “The cuffs and the collar. They are glowing.”

“What’s that mean, then?” Moze looked at the woman with desperation. 

“It means we need to find Rose,” FL4K spoke up. 

“What do we do with Zane?” the soldier asked, “I don’t trust him with a gun right now and we can’t just leave him alone.”

“Well, we’re going to have to trust him,” Amara decided, gently putting the man down as his screams let up, turning into whimpers. 

The Siren approached the man as he pushed himself back, trying to get away.

“N-No, get away!” Zane begged as his back hit the wall.

“We’re going to need you to take down Rose and get those shackles off of you,” Amara began, “Please, trust us. Just this once.” 

The Siren held out her hand. The operative looked at it with caution and fear. 

“How do I know if I can trust you again?” Zane held his hand to his chest, watching the woman.

“We both want Rose dead, don’t we?” Amara asked, insisting her hand.

Zane nodded.

“Then you’re going to have to trust us.”

The operative hesitated, then accepted the handshake.


End file.
